


The Lake House Revisited - Desert Night Mix

by Losemyhead



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: David is insta famous, Hot lake house nights, June intrudes, M/M, Romance, holiday sex, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losemyhead/pseuds/Losemyhead
Summary: Last time Alex and Henry came to the lake house, things went spectacularly bad for Alex.  A year later, Alex and Henry spend five romantic days at the lake house and Alex has to sort through some unresolved issues.  Also, June is bored and does something stupid.





	The Lake House Revisited - Desert Night Mix

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something where Henry says "Blurgh" again.

**Day 1**

Henry and Alex are first to disembark from the plane and are promptly whisked away by their security teams. They’re taken to a private car park and dropped off next to the jeep; the refurb that Alex’s dad leaves for him and June for that one weekend a year. Alex begged his dad to leave the car early so he and Henry could drive it out to the lake house this week.

Henry and Alex throw their bags into the back of the jeep and climb in. Alex beams as he takes the wheel and before long they’re on their way, doors and roof off, music blaring from the road trip playlist Alex put together last night.

“Must we listen to this rubbish the entire way?” Henry enquires lightly. “What’s wrong with my play list?”

Alex flashes him a cheeky grin. “Yours is shit and this is my car.”

Henry tries to give him a pointed look but it comes off looking soft. “You haven’t even listened to it. And this is your father’s car, love.”

“You know what I mean.” Alex says, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll listen to yours on the way back.” He grabs Henry’s hand and laces their fingers together and soon Henry is grinning too.

The black Secret Service SUV and Henry’s security team follow close behind, but far enough away that it feels like it’s just the two of them out here, two anonymous twenty something boys on vacation, hammering it down the interstate with nothing but endless blue sky above and black bitumen ahead. Henry looks like a dream in designer sunglasses and shorts, and Alex looks like he’s meant to be behind the wheel of this clapped out refurb, happy and relaxed in a faded college T-shirt and grinning like a madman.

It’s a rare event to have nothing planned for the week, and to have the lake house for themselves for the entire time. Alex made it through his finals with a lot of late nights and even more coffee, and is officially on summer break, and Henry managed to drag himself away from his commitments at the LGBT shelter and postponed only a few Royal engagements for this to happen. They both need the break and it will be good to get out of hustle and bustle of New York for a while, it’s been an intense year.

The _Daily Mail_ has targeted them relentlessly lately with insinuations that their relationship is on the rocks, that Henry’s secretly in love with Nicholas Finch-Wellesley, the son of the 17th Earl of Nottingham, that Alex and Nora have rekindled their relationship and are having a secret affair, that Henry and Alex were caught in another sex scandal – this time joining the Mile High Club on one of their private trans-Atlantic trips.

Alex is not fussed with what the papers write about him – although he _is_ pissed that he didn’t think of the last one before the _Mail_ did – but he worries about the effect the negative attention and gossip has on Henry, who can’t ever escape the limelight because he will live and die a part of the Royal family, whose birthright is a country, who the _Mail_ pays particular attention to–not because of what his achievements are but simply because of who he is. Alex knows full well that most of the time Henry would like nothing more than to be left alone, an unknown person in the world, that Henry doesn’t need or want the constant attention he receives (doesn’t feed off the positive energy of it like Alex does), that sometimes all of it still feels _too much _sometimes.

Alex doesn’t think too much about the borderline crazy media attention they get– since coming out with Henry the media’s prying has been on an entirely different level – but he can’t quite comprehend the stupid level amount of interest and commentary there is over every single facet of their relationship. He understands Henry’s placid smiles and blank faces he saves for the media a lot more now.

They spent last night in Washington at the White House where they had dinner with Alex’s mom, Leo, June and Zarah and dropped off David to stay with June. Henry was hesitant but June promised to look after him and let him sleep with her and Leo offered to walk him every day so Henry finally relaxed when he realised David will be in good hands.

It’s not as if they haven’t had their share of holidays together over the past year either. Short trips to some of Henry’s family’s country homes in Wales and Scotland, a private wine tasting weekend with June and Nora in the Nappa Valley, a boozy sun filled week spent watching Henry show off his snorkelling and diving skills on Pez’s family yacht in Montserrat. But this week feels different because it’s the lake house, Alex’s private haven, and they haven’t been back here since that time last year when things spectacularly went to shit.

They reach the lakes an hour or so later, and Alex slows down to weave their way towards his dad’s house. It still blows Alex’s mind that Henry the _prince_ is here at the lake house with him. Even though Henry the prince is Alex’s boyfriend, and goddamn love of his life, and has been for well over a year now, somehow it still feels surreal that HRH Henry Prince of Wales is prepared to holiday with him at his dad’s hacienda style house by an artificial lake smack bang in the middle of Texas.

Alex pulls the jeep into the driveway flanked by thick trees – his dad’s driveway – and feels himself start to relax as he steers the jeep to the top of the hill. He parks in front of the house and jumps out while their team falls back and run security. They’ve rented the place next door again for privacy and for the security team to lodge, but Alex and Henry don’t mind the obligatory security presence; they’re both big fans of privacy these days.

They unload their bags and head inside. His dad called earlier to let them know he’s stocked the place with everything they’ll need for the week; fresh corn, ripe tomatoes, avocados and peaches, ingredients for pancakes and seasoning for elotes, pork tamales and frijoles churros already prepared in the fridge, racks of ribs for Alex to barbecue, beer and supplies for countless jugs of sangria and coffee for Alex and Earl Grey tea for Henry. There are fresh sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom and beach towels under the porch, ready for their swim. His dad left them a note on the kitchen counter: _Have fun and no sex in anyone’s bed but your own. Santa Maria is watching!_ Alex laughs to himself and says a silent prayer of thanks to his dad for being so goddamn accommodating.

There’s so much Alex wants to do all at once. He wants to swim, he wants to barbecue big slabs of meat, he wants to have wild holiday sex with his boyfriend. He also wants to see Henry eat barbecue with his hands again. Henry’s had more practice since they moved into the brownstone together but it doesn’t come naturally to him – years of high end dinners and etiquette coaching does not simply go away. Alex has even picked up some of Henry’s aristocratic habits.

They dump their bags and decide to swim first, the weather’s too good for anything else so they pull on their swimming trunks and head straight out for the pier, eager for their vacation to start. Alex races Henry to the lake and they laugh as they elbow and push and pull at each other in their effort to be first. Alex is fast but Henry is faster, and Henry wins easily thanks to his long legs and years of elite polo and rugby. Alex doesn’t mind one bit.

They race to the end of the pier, shoving each other on the way, and when they reach the end they leap straight off into the water, laughing and pushing and grabbing at each other under the water. When they both come up for air, dripping and refreshed, Alex grabs Henry by the waist and kisses his passionately because he’s been waiting all fucking day to kiss Henry again–commercial airlines might be cheaper, but there’s no _privacy_. He feels Henry’s arms as they twist around his shoulders, Henry’s fingers tugging at his hair as Henry kisses him back. This is what I need, Alex thinks. This.

They down a few Shiners and spend the afternoon in the kitchen, Alex preparing the ribs while Henry has a go at making the salsa verde albeit with a lot of instruction from Alex. When Alex finally gets the ribs on the barbecue, he washes the spices off his hand and informs Henry with a glint in his eye and a playful grin that they have exactly half an hour to spare before he has to baste them, so he drags Henry to their bedroom and proceeds to spend that half hour doing very filthy things to his boyfriend.

Henry is a mess at dinner.

Even after countless sangrias and two serves of pork ribs, Henry still blushes every time Alex locks eyes with him. So Alex locks eyes with him while he finishes the last of his ribs, licks the mess from his fingers suggestively and sips his drink provocatively until Henry has enough of Alex’s teasing and moves to stand in front of Alex, hand out. Alex takes Henry’s hand wordlessly, the mess from dinner forgotten as Henry leads him past one of Henry’s PPO sitting under the porch and into their room. He guides Alex backwards, pushing him until he lands on his back on the bed and follows him on all fours until he’s hovering above him, his elbows and knees pressed into the mattress.

And Alex, who usually talks and talks and talks until he’s not sure anyone’s even listening anymore, doesn’t say anything. He’s learned to wait for Henry these days, because Henry is a prodigy and his mind is a labyrinth and Henry always has a plan. And tonight, Henry is smiling at him like he has a particularly wicked plan.

Henry’s lips ghosts over Alex’s throat, and Alex swallows as Henry continues along his jaw, his chin, his cheeks as he brings his mouth closer to Alex’s lips, he brushes their noses together, touches their lips briefly, and then hesitates.

“What do you want Alex?” Henry asks, his voice low and dangerous.

Fuck. Henry is so fucking good at this and Alex absolutely melts when Henry says his name like that, the word registering somewhere deep in Alex’s abdomen. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, so loud that he’s sure Henry can hear it. Alex ponders for a moment, what exactly it is about holiday sex that makes it so enticing. Even after all this time together he knows he’s not going to last long tonight.

He doesn’t think he can articulate his thoughts tonight, so he reaches up to kiss Henry instead, pulling Henry’s body down until Henry is flush against him. The kiss is sweet and deep, which suits Alex just fine because he wants to last a while longer than Henry lasted this afternoon, but time was of the essence then, they had ribs to baste.

They kiss for minutes or hours, Alex doesn’t care to know because he lets himself get lost in the press and slide of Henry’s mouth against his, Henry here at the lake house, Henry the prince in his bed in the middle of Texas. Alex thinks that will never get old.

He pulls Henry’s hips closer and they both make unholy sounds in each other’s mouth but they don’t break their kiss. The move has the desired effect because Henry kisses him harder now, and Alex is kissing him back just as urgent, both panting as they crush their mouths together. So much for taking their time.

He pulls back to remove Henry’s T-shirt, grabbing at the hem and lifting it over Henry’s head in one swift move. Henry follows suit with Alex’s, and then removes his shorts as well, and then Henry is kissing him again, his body bearing down on Alex in a way that always makes Alex forget everything else.

“Love?” Henry asks again. It’s been so long since either of them spoke that Alex only now realises he didn’t answer Henry’s question.

What does he want? Sometimes he wants nothing more than to take charge and set the pace and the agenda, to tell Henry exactly what to do, but other times he wants Henry to take control and lead the way, use some of that creative genius he’s demonstrated so often in the past. Tonight he thinks he’d like to be surprised, let Henry take the lead, so he simply answers, “You.”

Henry grins wickedly, kisses Alex hard on the mouth again and again, and sets to work.

**Day 2**

David is curled up with June on her bed and June thinks she might like a dog. She pats him absently while flicking through the latest issue of Vogue, gets bored and dresses him in a small HISTORY HUH? T-shirt she has laying around.

“_Who’za good lad, then,”_ she coos at David in her best British accent, trying to sound like Henry. “_’Whoo’za beautiful boy.”_

The accent is terrible and David is not fooled at all, but June thinks he looks cute so she snaps a picture and sends to Nora. Nora texts her back straight away with the message; **Upload it to Instagram, I bet he gets more likes than Alex**. June smiles wickedly and does exactly that, adding the caption: _Bet we can make some_.

She sits back and watches the likes pour in and within minutes it becomes her highest ever liked post, even more than that picture of her and Henry that time, so June does what June does and sets up an Instagram account for David, calls it royalpooch and uploads the same picture and caption. She adds the tag @royalpooch to her original post and he has thousands of followers of his own within the first five minutes. Nora, Bea and Princess Catherine are some of the first.

June dresses David in the doggy _Bowie_ T-shirt that Alex bought him last Christmas next, snaps a photo of him posing on her pink comforter and uploads it to his new account, adding the quote: _I’m an instant star, just add water and stir_.

Leo interrupts her photo shoot to take David for a walk, as he’d promised Henry, and June reluctantly hands him over. She’s bored again so she spends the next hour searching the web for designer dog clothes.

Alex and Henry are drinking their third sangria for the day on the swing outside. They’re relaxed and refreshed after a late afternoon swim in the lake, which followed an early afternoon fuck in their bed. They’re barefoot and bare-chested and Henry’s shoulders have a tinge of pink from the afternoon sun which contrasts nicely against his sun-kissed hair. Their still wet swimming trunks drip down their legs and they sip their drinks lazily. Henry dips his head to Alex’s jaw for a kiss and Alex hums in response, linking their free hands together.

It’s peaceful here at the lake house. The sun is bright in the late afternoon sky, warming their still wet bodies as it casts a streak of shimmering white across the lake. Alex has always felt more relaxed here than anywhere else. He breathes in the serenity.

Both his and Henry’s phone pings with a message from June in their group chat. Alex reads the message first; **Check out David **and clicks on the link automatically, assuming it’s a link to June’s Instagram account. Henry takes a sip of his drink and watches over his shoulder.

The image loads and Alex stares at it. It takes him less than a second to work out it’s not June’s account but a separate, entirely new and not entirely appropriate account. He immediately calls June, switching the call to FaceTime when she answers.

June’s face appears and Alex starts yelling. “What the fuck Bug? Why’d you do that for? You know we can’t do that, he’s not even your dog, so you definitely can’t do that–”

“And hello to you too Alex. Are you having a nice time? How’s the water? Are you keeping your greasy fingers off my stuff? You two had better stay out of my room.”

“Fuck off Juniper,” Alex growls.

“Not my name. And is that any way to greet your sister who’s babysitting your boyfriend’s dog by the way?” June sing songs her reply. “I mean, where was _my_ invite to the lake house–”

“Er. Hello June.” Henry says, prizing the phone from Alex’s white knuckled hand. His tone is far more reserved than Alex, he’s always far more polite. “Lovely to speak with you. You’re looking ravishing as always by the way. And yes, thank you for taking care of David this week. Much appreciated.”

“Thank you Henry. At least one of you has manners.” June retorts, poking her tongue out at Alex.

Alex gives her the finger but Henry swipes it away before continuing. “But I believe there may be. Er. Protocols that need to be adhered to, for Royal social media accounts.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I read them _all_ Henry_._ There are a lot of them by the way. Y’all might want to do something about that,” she informs him, completely unperturbed. “But he’s not a Royal, he’s a dog.”

It’s taken Alex an entire year to learn the Royal protocols he needs to abide by, the serious ones like not espousing his boyfriend’s political leanings (Royals are not supposed to have any), to the ridiculous like having to stop eating when the Queen does at any Royal function. (He’s learned to eat fast at these.) Even though Alex is not a Royal (yet), being in a serious relationship with one is deemed close enough.

He doesn’t do it to endear himself to the Queen – he’s not sure he’ll ever endear himself to her because he’ll always be the boy who stole her grandson’s heart – he does it first and foremost for Henry. But he also does it for Bea and Henry’s mom, both who have supported Henry and Alex’s relationship from the beginning. He also does it for his mom because he’s the FSOTUS and his mom is the President of the United States and creating another international incident would not go down well with her at all. (And also, he’s really, really afraid of what Zarah will do to him if he does.)

He definitely doesn’t do it for Phillip, who gave Henry such when he first came out, even if Phillip does seem to be coming around lately. Not that Phillip has much choice; the entire world is enamoured with Alex and Henry’s relationship these days. Henry’s official engagements have increased substantially and both of their social media accounts have been inundated with positive support from around the globe ever since that fateful week. No one could have predicted the outpouring of support they were to receive when they were outed in such an obscene way.

And it was obscene. They were outed by Jeffrey Richards, the Republican presidential hopeful that brutally campaigned against Alex’s mom. Richards always played dirty, but he dug his own grave when he had Alex stalked, photographed his emails hacked and then outed him via the British press thanks to Rafael Luna, who then outed Richards. Why does politics have to be so damn ugly?

Alex and Henry stare down at the image of David again, and then at each other. David does look pretty cool and Henry doesn’t seem that fussed about it so Alex is prepared to let it go. Technically it’s true – David is not a Royal, but they’ll no doubt be hearing from Phillip over this, perhaps even the Queen. Alex wonders how long it will take Phillip to catch on, he’s not particularly interested in social media, he lets his PR team run his official account without ever glancing at their output. To Philip, it’s just another part of being heir to the throne, another role to be fulfilled.

They stare down at the two photos again – one of David in a Bowie T-shirt and one of David in a bright yellow HISTORY HUH? T-shirt – and Alex smiles as he re-reads the captions because they’re good. June has always been brilliant at capturing the mood. He remembers a photo Henry once sent him of David dressed in a Slytherin scarf and wonders if Henry will let him post it.

“Point.” Henry finally concedes to June.

“And anyway,” June continues, oblivious to the Royal codes of behaviour for dogs or sisters of boys dating a member of Royalty. “He’s going to lift your approval ratings through the roof Henry. He has thousands of followers already. He’ll have as many as me before the day is out. Hell, he’s gonna have more than Alex and you put together soon.”

“Hey!” Alex complains, snatching the phone back from Henry. “He can’t have more than me, everybody loves me. And anyway, he’s a dog.”

“He can and he will baby bro. Because he’s single, he’s way cuter than you and he’s not an insufferable know-it-all smartass like you.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to hand over the account to Henry at the very least,” Alex grumbles, ignoring her taunt.

“Of course,” she answers. “I set it up for you two, dumbass. I’ve just got a few more outfits for David to pose for . . .”

Alex rolls his eyes and Henry takes the phone out of his hand, proceeds to have a quiet chat with June and confirms she’s not to post him wearing anything political or controversial (_More controversial than that T-shirt?_ she asks), points her again to the list of Royal protocols and has Shaan email her the entire list from the Royal files for good measure. When he’s done, he places Alex’s mobile on the table beside the swing and takes Alex’s hand.

Alex is still frowning at the ground so Henry pulls him close and nuzzles his neck and kisses his ear and whispers, “Don’t worry love, he’s not as cute as you.”

“Fuck off,” Alex grumbles, trying not to smile.

Henry wraps his arm around Alex’s shoulder and touches his fingers to the hinge of Alex’s jaw and leans down for a kiss. Alex obliges, tilting his chin up, all thoughts of David’s popularity fading away with the gentle press of Henry’s mouth against his.

They lose track of time making out on the swing like teenagers, and soon the kisses become more urgent and heated. Alex angles himself towards Henry and then he climbs onto Henry’s lap and straddles him, pressing his still damp swimming trunks down onto Henry in a way that makes them both groan. Alex goes to deepen the kiss but Henry pulls back.

“We have to go inside if you want to continue this any further,” Henry reminds Alex. He always has to remind Alex lately. Ever since they arrived at the lake house, they’ve been more relaxed and carefree than normal, but a part of Henry always remains on guard.

Alex thinks about ignoring Henry’s warning because this is his place, the place he feels most at home in the entire world apart from Henry’s side. But they’ve already had one sex scandal in their short lives and there’s no way they’re going to have another – Alex doubts Henry will survive it – so he hops off Henry’s lap and takes Henry’s hand, but not before shifting his weight once more to tease Henry. “Well, come on, Your Royal Hottness.”

“You’re a menace,” Henry says, smiling fondly as he follows Alex inside.

Alex considers the sofa – they did it there this morning – thinks about heading straight for the bedroom but they’ve done it there already as well, so he drags Henry into the kitchen.

“This is new,” Henry says quietly.

Alex ignores him for a moment, moves to turn on the speaker and selects a song from his playlist. “Thought you might like a dance first,” he croons into Henry’s ear.

Henry’s face breaks into an incandescent smile and Alex marvels at how beautiful he looks. He wishes Henry would smile like that all the time. Henry smiles a lot more these days, and he’s smiled a lot since they arrived at the lake house.

Alex puts on one of his favourite hip-hop tracks that Henry dislikes intensely, grabs Henry by the hips and starts swaying and dipping to the music. Henry has gotten better at dancing with Alex but he still feels uncomfortable dancing to this sort of music.

“C’mon baby, watch me,” Alex says, knowing full well that will set Henry off.

After the relaxing swim and three heavily loaded Sangrias, Henry has loosened up enough to reply earnestly, “I am.”

Alex grins and keeps hold of Henry’s hips as he twists and gyrates, and watches Henry’s face morph into surprise, then desire, then outright want. Alex loves the look of out-and-out lust in Henry’s eyes.

“These lyrics are a travesty,” Henry half whines.

Alex ignores his protests and continues dancing in front of Henry, and Henry keeps watching, bopping his head in time with the music and swaying his hips occasionally but always, always watching Alex.

The song finishes and Henry selects the next one, a slow one so they can hold each other close. Henry brings Alex into him and takes his hand in one of his, the other reaching around his waist. Alex would normally follow and dance with Henry for as long as Henry wants to, but this time he forgets all about dancing and reaches up to kiss Henry instead. His hands cradle Henry’s face gently, reverently, because Henry is definitely something to be revered.

Coming to the lake house was a big enormous deal for Alex. It’s something he’s been thinking about ever since the debacle of a visit last year, because that visit ended with Henry taking off in the middle of the night and hot tailing it back to England just as Alex was about to professed his love to Henry for the first time.

He’s dreamed a lot of the lake house a lot over the last few months, he thinks that’s because the lake house is important to him, an anchor to his former life. Whenever the stress of exams threatens to derail him he draws energy from things he finds familiar and safe; the lake house, their old house in Pemberton Heights, June, Henry.

In his dreams he sees the orange house shining bright and sure and perpetual under the full moon, the black and silver water of the lake ebbing gently against the shore, the tree tops whispering their secrets to the wind. He’s always in the water in his dreams, sometimes the water laps around his knees, sometimes it’s up around his neck but he’s always in the lake and Henry is always sitting on the pier, naked and staring at the sky. They’re always just apart.

His body still tenses with the memory of almost losing Henry that time, with the thought of how close they came to ending everything, but Alex fought and Henry is brave and they made it through the other side intact. But the dreams still come.

He pushes the thought away. This is their first wholly private vacation together, it’s supposed to be a week without big thoughts and deep reflection. He wants to spend it swimming and getting drunk and being with Henry.

He realises Henry’s been watching him while his mind traversed this rocky memory, so he shakes the last of the thought away, gives Henry a winning smile and then proceeds to kiss him breathless.

**Day 3**

Alex wakes to his and Henry’s mobiles going off, a barrage of messages pinging in rapid succession.

“Fuck,” Alex grumbles as he gropes around for his phone on the night stand, a low-grade hangover settling like fog over his brain.

After their kitchen dance (which was closely followed by kitchen sex), they showered together and then downed a few Shiners while they prepared dinner. Henry took instruction from Alex on how to prepare the elotes and he even made his own batch of salsa verde while Alex worked on more tamales. They drank more Sangria and ate on deck chairs on the porch, balancing their plates on their knees while listening to the sound of the wind in the trees and the distant water lapping softly against the shore. They took another late night swim and Alex marvelled how Henry’s skin looked in the washed-out silver moonlight; pale and beautiful and dreamlike. Alex could get used to this.

“Blurgh,” Henry groans to no one in particular. He reaches across Alex for his mobile, his bare chest brushing against Alex’s shoulder as he leans towards the night stand, sending a jolt of pleasure down Alex’s spine. Henry misses the night stand completely and flops back on the bed empty handed. Alex hands him his phone while his eyes scan the ever growing list of messages on his own phone. Alex runs his eyes over them.

A message from June in the 3 Geniuses and Alex group chat: @**royalpooch has 100,000 followers as of 10am this morning! It’s only a matter of time baby bro.**

A message from Bea in the 2 royals and a peasant boy group chat: **What a cutie. David puts the two of you to shame. BTW Pip’s pissed off.**

A message from Pez in the An Englishman, an American and a Sex God group chat: **Too adorable darlings. I’ll have a kimono made for him this afternoon. Is it too much if I hand deliver it to June? **

A text from Zarah to Alex: **Well done you little shit, @royalpooch is a hit**. **Your approval rating is going through the roof so I’m not going to murder you. Yet. Don’t fuck this up.**

A text from Ellen Claremont to Alex: **Did you check with Henry’s family before pulling this stunt Diaz? I’m not going to go so easy on you next time. Love you honey xx**

A text from Oscar Diaz to Alex: **Was this your wise ass idea mijo or CJ’s? I bet it was CJ. I’m gonna call her now.**

A message from Nora in the 3 Geniuses and Alex group chat: **Has anyone seen my white Chuck Taylors?**

Alex checks the time. It’s just gone after nine. He wonders how he and Henry were able to sleep so late given they’re both insomniacs. It must be the peace and quiet, or the fresh lake-side air, or the late night swim, or most likely it was their night of drunken debauchery that lasted well into the early hours of the morning and christened a few new rooms of the lake house. Alex’s mind flashes on an image of Henry, naked and spread out on the kitchen counter, his face flushed and his body warm and ready as Alex pushed into him. Alex sincerely hopes his dad never finds out.

Henry reads the same messages in the group chats plus one text to him from his mother: **Hi Henry, are you having a lovely trip? Love the pictures of David. Call me when you have a moment please love. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Mum xx **and Henry grimaces guiltily. When did he last call his mum?

The ring of Henry’s phone cuts through the silence, and Phillip’s picture appears on the screen. “Oh Christ,” Henry mutters under his breath. His thumb hovers over the answer button for a moment, but then he changes his mind and declines the call, throwing his mobile face down on the bed. “Bloody Phillip.”

Alex instinctively knows what the deal is from those two words and from Bea’s message, considers quickly that as long as Henry’s mum isn’t mad at Henry, then Phillip can go to hell. But still, Henry’s mouth is a thin line as he throws himself backwards onto the bed and glares at the ceiling.

He reaches for Henry, brushes his hair away from his face. “Sweetheart?”

He could kill June for this. This week was supposed to be their vacation, just the two of them away from New York and his studies, away from the shelter, away from the White House and Kensington and the press and everyone in their lives. Away. This was supposed to be their time together.

And now June and her bright idea has caused an avalanche of communications from the real world that he and Henry don’t in any way want to deal with this week. He smashes out a response to June on his phone, muttering under his breath as he furiously types out his message.

Henry looks over at Alex, sees the worry on his boyfriend’s face, and resolves not to let his annoying brother ruin his holiday. He places his hand over Alex’s to stop the barrage of abuse Alex is no doubt about to unleash on his sister, and shakes his head. Alex stares back for a moment, sceptical at first but then huffs out a resigned sigh and deletes the message, his finger hammering angrily over the back arrow key. He throws his mobile onto the night stand.

“I’m sorry Henry–” Alex starts miserably, but Henry stops him with a finger against his lips.

“Hush Alex. It’s all right.”

“Are you sure? I mean, June didn’t mean to cause you any problems, it’s just, she can be a bit–”

“Yes love. It’s fine.” Henry drags out the last word and pushes out his jaw in that way that Alex knows too well – determined and resolute. “What June did doesn’t break the rules, only . . . bends them slightly. And Phillip can bloody well go to hell for all I care,” Henry says defiantly. “You know he’s not happy unless he’s got something or other to complain about.”

Alex stares back at Henry for a long time, at the softness in Henry’s eyes and the smile on his soft mouth and sees the confidence there, the sureness of a man born to lead. It’s intoxicating. He also sees the mussed hair from sleep and the fact that Henry’s still not wearing anything under the sheets, which kind of diminishes the effect a little, but in an entirely good way. He lets out an incredulous laugh and shakes his head. “Okay,” he breathes in relief.

“Good,” Henry says, grabbing Alex by the waist and pulling him close. He grins as he crashes his lips to Alex’s and Alex responds immediately, climbing over Henry to deepen the kiss.

They’re still naked from the night before, and the contact of skin on skin gives Alex his second jolt down his spine. He groans audibly as he grinds down onto Henry.

They kiss for a lot longer than either of them plan, alternating from short light grabs at each other’s mouths and skin to deep passionate kisses, where Alex feels like he might die if he doesn’t feel the continuous slide of Henry’s tongue directly against his. He’s panting heavily when his stomach grumbles with hunger, which puts an abrupt end to their make out session once Henry hears it.

“C’mon love. Breakfast,” Henry orders, climbing off the bed. Alex grunts but complies, knowing full well that Henry just wants to try his hand at pancakes.

They make breakfast together. Alex explains again to Henry how to flip the pancake without the pancake ending up a mess on the floor and Henry’s culinary skills are improving but he’s still not as adept as Alex. Alex wears the polka-dotted apron again, because he’s not wearing a T-shirt and doesn’t want to get splattered with hot butter, but mostly just to see the look on Henry’s face.

Henry calls Shaan and Shaan informs Henry that Phillip is indeed _quite angered_, but advises that he has looked into the rules and assures Henry that they haven’t broken protocol. Henry is relieved but has one more item of business to attend to before he can move on.

“Would you be so kind as to. Er. Pass that information onto my brother please?” Henry asks, knowing that Shaan will actually pass the information on to Phillip’s equerry for him to pass onto Phillip. Even members of the Royal staff have protocols.

The line is quiet for a moment. “Yes, sir,” Shaan replies like he’d rather be doing literally anything else.

They eat at the kitchen table, clear up together, and then take Alex’s dad’s boat out. Henry taking charge of the helm as they sail out across the pristine water. They spend the morning sailing around the lake and Alex is again in awe of exactly how much Henry is proficient at. It seems there’s nothing that Henry can’t do – except cook, but they’re working on that.

They’re tired from the morning sail so after a late lunch of pork tamales and leftover frijoles, Alex digs out the old board games. He challenges Henry to a game of chess after Henry refuses to play American Monopoly, (another travesty according to Henry) and Henry thrashes him in an embarrassingly few number of moves, so Alex ditches the games and digs through his dad’s old Mexican movie collection. They argue over movies and eventually settle on _Amores Perros_ because Henry hasn’t seen it.

Alex finds some popcorn kernels and cooks it up the traditional way, much to Henry’s amusement, and settles with his back against Henry’s chest and Henry’s arms around him and their feet tangled together on the sofa to watch the movie. Alex grabs a handful of popcorn and tries to feed Henry blindly, missing his mouth so most of the popcorn ends up in his own hair and Henry calls him a delinquent then daintily picks up one popcorn at a time with his elegant fingers and pops them into Alex’s mouth. Alex catches Henry’s perfectly elegant fingers in his mouth and licks the salt off, smiling triumphantly when Henry splutters and his ears turn a perfect shade of pink.

That night in bed, Alex is surprised at how quick Henry is to move on him. This week seems to have transformed Henry into a more assertive, hungrier version of himself and Alex doesn’t mind one bit.

They’ve only just climbed into bed when Henry moves over him and mouths at his jaw, kisses the spot below Alex’s ear until Alex’s heart stutters, grazes his teeth down Alex’s throat until Alex moans. Henry doesn’t waste any time as he trails his hand down the line of Alex’s chest, past the key and his signet ring that permanently abide on the chain there and across his stomach until he reaches Alex’s hip. They lock eyes as Henry slides his hand down below the elastic of Alex’s boxers, and then Alex closes his eyes and clenches his fists into the bedspread as Henry sets to work.

Alex wants everything all at once; he wants Henry to keep doing what he’s doing with his hand, he wants Henry’s mouth to follow suit, he wants Henry’s mouth back on his so he can feel Henry’s tongue against his own, but most of all he needs Henry to do whatever the fuck he wants because Alex is about to lose his fucking mind to this blissful state.

He sighs and pants and arches his back and still wants it all at once, but most of all he wants Henry’s mouth on his, and Henry instinctively knows because he climbs the length of Alex’s body and to hover over him and kisses him again and again, aggressively now and with a confidence that Alex loves as much as he loves Henry.

And he loves Henry, he loves every goddamn part of him; he loves his mind and his body, his smile and his moods and his goddamn tongue that is threatening to take Alex over the edge just with the way he’s kissing him. He lets himself get lost in kissing Henry back.

Henry must sense Alex is close because he makes his way down again, pressing his lips down the line of Alex’s smooth chest, down to take over where his hand has been keeping rhythm.

The words come out in a rush now. “Goddamn it Henry – fuck – Henry that’s good – oh my fucking _God_–baby, just – sweetheart that’s –_Jesus fuck_.” A continuous stream of praise and profanity until the words run together into a meaningless string before coming to an abrupt end when Henry does that thing with his tongue and Alex sucks in a breath and stops talking once and for all.

He’s edging closer, each stroke threatening to take him over the brink, and somewhere in his mind, where his mind is still semi-lucid, he thinks dizzily that if Henry ever stops he might not survive it, because Henry is so skilled at this and his heart is going to leap out of his chest if he stops so he can’t stop, he can’t ever stop doing what he’s doing because it feels so fucking good, feels so right, so goddamn perfect, so–

Alex comes hard, with one hand fisted into the sheet and the other threaded through Henry’s hair. He’s still coming down when Henry climbs up next to him, brushes his jaw with feather light fingertips and presses his mouth to Alex’s for a soft kiss. Alex smiles into it and opens his eyes to see Henry grinning triumphantly at him.

“So _talkative_ tonight,” Henry teases.

All Alex can do is breathe deeply in an effort to calm his racing heart, swat Henry with the back of his hand in a feeble show of affection and mutter, “Fuck you.”

Henry grins impishly and says, “I don’t think you’d be able to after that, love.”

**Day 4**

Alex is awakened by his mobile ringing. He gropes around on the nightstand for it, reads and promptly forgets a message from Nora in their group chat asking if anyone’s seen her favourite pink shorts and answers the call with a groggy “Hullo?”

He feels Henry stir behind him. They fell asleep last night, wrapped around each other after Alex enthusiastically and energetically returned the favour. He still feels smug at the new level of profanity he was able to elicit out of Henry. There was an entirely new recital aimed at the ceiling, and it truly is something else to hear _Oh my fucking God_ and _Jesus fucking Christ_ in the same sentence as _fuck your fucking eyelashes_ in Henry’s sweet, posh voice.

After, he remembers fumbling around for Henry’s hand and pulling him close until his chest was pressed up against his own back, Henry’s shoulders enveloping his own, Henry’s leg between his legs, Henry’s arm a sheath over his arm, their fingers laced together. Henry started this thing where they sleep pressed up against each other and Alex continued it. He doesn’t like any space between them either.

“I told you David would have more followers me,” June screams into the phone as soon as Alex answers it, slamming his brain intrusively back to the present. He takes a few seconds to absorb the information.

“Is that all you called to tell me? I’m not answering your calls anymore Bug, we’re supposed to be on vacation,” Alex grumbles once he’s caught up. He’s not sure if he’s pissed off at being woken up again by June or pissed at David’s increasing popularity.

“Yes, that’s all I called to tell you. And that he’ll have more followers than _you_ tomorrow.”

“I’m hanging up now June.”

“No wait Alex! Pez sent the kimono. You gotta let me take a picture of David in it. Put Henry on, I’ll ask him, he’s his dog.”

Alex grunts but complies, too tired to argue and flops back onto the mattress. He hears Henry talk amicably with June but zones out, coming too again when he feels Henry press up against him.

He had that dream again last night – the lake house one – the one where they’re by the lake but always just apart. It makes sense, seeing as they are at the lake house, his mind reasons, but something digs at his rationale and it doesn’t quiet cut it. He pushes the intruding thought away when Henry says the magic word, _breakfast._

They head out straight after breakfast, say hi to the PPO stationed on the porch and take off running down to the lake for another swim. Alex takes off at a sprint down the pier, ditching his towel along the way and jumps feet first into the lake, whooping loudly as he flies through the air. Henry follows at a more leisurely pace, drops his towel at the end of the pier and dives in graceful and elegant as always.

They chase each other around the shallow water, throw a tennis ball to each other as they argue about Star Wars, race each other to the pontoon and back and when they’re too tired to swim any more, they duck under the pier to make out.

They sit on the swing at the edge of the porch, still wet from the lake, sip on ice cold Sangria and laugh at each other’s bad jokes.

They ignore a bunch of messages from June and Nora in their group chat which mainly centre around how much Alex _cares_ about David’s rising popularity (he doesn’t), whether David and Henry will pose together for a photo shoot (they won’t), and whether they can dress David in Alex’s old lacrosse top (no).

They also ignore Pez’s messages in their group chat about the summer doggy wardrobe he’s ordered for David. _Per June’s instruction I swear Alexander babes _and _It should arrive by the time you two return to your Brooklyn bordello darlings_.

And ignore some messages from Bea in their group chat, which centre on how pissed off Phillip is (a lot), and whether she can send over Henry’s first grade school uniform for David to pose wearing (definitely no).

Alex realises his life was a lot quieter when he only had two friends.

They head back inside for lunch and more Sangria and then move to their bedroom and spend the afternoon discovering entirely new and different ways to get each other off. They shower together and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, opening books they’d bought months ago but until now hadn’t gotten around to reading. Henry sits with his back propped up against the bedhead and Alex lies across him with his head in Henry’s lap. Henry plays absently with Alex’s hair.

It’s good, it’s all so good and Alex is so fucking happy that he doesn’t want to think too hard about the dream, and that thing behind the dream that’s been gnawing at him since before they even arrived so he doesn’t. He picks up his phone instead and scrolls through his feeds and sees another three photos of David; in one David’s dressed in a shocking royal blue kimono that Pez sent, in another he’s in what looks like Leo’s tartan golf hat with a comic book propped up in front of him, and in the last picture _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ is propped up in front of David, and David is wearing–

He sits up in a flash and grunts to himself as he calls June. Henry glances over at Alex, his eyes questioning but before Alex has time to explain June picks up.

“Are those my glasses?” he demands as soon as June answers. He’s raking his fingers through his hair at a frenetic pace.

Henry grabs his own phone and takes a look. He stares, bemused and huffs a laugh when he sees the offending picture. He reaches for Alex’s hand to stop him tearing out his hair.

“They’re just an old pair I found lying around, I didn’t know they were yours. I thought they were Leo’s,” June explains coolly.

“Leo’s my ass,” he snaps back, offended. Alex’s glasses are cool, Leo’s are like, out of the ark or something. “Stay outta my room. And keep outta my stuff June, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. But did you see Alex? That picture scored so many likes.”

“I’m blocking you.”

“No you won’t. Hey, I reckon I could do a whole series of–”

“I’m on vacation!” Alex yells down the phone before he hangs up on her.

That night Alex can’t sleep. He should be tired, he should be exhausted after the busy day, the busy week, but his mind is racing. He feels like time is running out. He knows they’re leaving tomorrow but he doesn’t think that’s it.

“Hen, are you awake?” he whispers in the darkness.

“Yes love.”

Alex gets out of bed and reaches out his hand to Henry, Henry takes it wordlessly.

They sneak out quietly, passed the dozing PPO on the porch and Alex feels the oppressive sense of déja vu. He tries to ignore it as they make their way towards the lake, his heart racing. They don’t run this time; instead they walk quietly, hands linked. A late night stroll to anyone watching.

Alex leads Henry down along the pier, and when they reach the end, Alex turns to face Henry. Henry is looking right back at him, his eyes questioning.

The lake house has always been the place Alex felt most at home in the past – his most sacred of places. Its felt good and right to be here but something has felt off all week and he thinks he’s worked out what it is. He wants the lake house to be that sacred place for him again and he knows what he has to do.

Alex brushes his thumbs across Henry’s cheeks and Henry instantly catches Alex’s mood. Henry sees the serious look that crosses Alex’s eyes and he watches him, his expression cautious, waiting. Alex takes a breath.

They tell each other _I love you _often enough, but not constantly. They’re both so sure of their love for each other and that it’s reciprocated so they don’t feel the need. Instead they show their love in other ways; Henry bringing Alex his morning coffee just the way he likes it, with sugar and cinnamon; Alex bringing Henry tea when he’s working late at his desk; Henry listening to Alex’s erratic ramblings; Alex always taking the time to listen to Henry’s ideas for the shelter; both attending their boyfriend’s family engagements whenever they’re required to and always without hesitation; nights spent talking under the duvet about anything and everything, and listening – really listening to each other. They have always been each other’s fixed point of reference, each other’s sounding board. But it’s even more than that, Henry is Alex’s North Star – his way home, and Alex is, well, Alex is Henry’s everything.

He doesn’t think Henry is going to bolt this time, but he’s nervous none the less. And it’s not as if they never tell each other how they feel because they do. They tell each other whenever Henry is back in England on official duties, or when Alex is in Washington or whenever they’re feeling particularly romantic or just whenever. It’s just that neither have said it since they arrived _here_, and Alex isn’t sure if Henry’s even realised it yet, because Alex only figured it out this morning.

“Hey,” he says. He watches Henry’s eyes shine bright in the moonlight, he notes Henry’s careful expression again.

“Hi,” Henry says back.

Alex is sure the air was alive with sounds a moment ago – the wind whispering in the trees and the waves lapping against the shore – but he can’t hear anything over his own heartbeat. He takes a steadying breath. He’s not scared, exactly, just a little nervous – the sting of last year’s rejection still fresh in his heart.

As usual, Alex doesn’t know how to begin so, like always, he dives in and hopes for the best.

“I love you Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. Like, really love you,” Alex says solemnly, and somewhat relieved that he managed to get Henry’s ridiculously long name out without messing it up. “And I love being here with you. Here, at the lake house. I know things didn’t go so well last time we were here but this time has been, well, it’s been kinda perfect.” He brushes his thumbs across Henry’s cheeks again. “I – I just wanted you to know that.”

Henry doesn’t run this time; he has no reason to because this isn’t last year when everything hung in the balance, when Henry wasn’t prepared for Alex to love him back. This is now, and he and Alex are in a committed relationship and they’re in love; hopelessly, irrevocably undeniably in love. He relaxes instinctively in Alex’s arms, smiles an easy smile and answers just as seriously, almost reverently. “I love you Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz. Without question. And there’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you, love.”

Alex exhales a shaky breath and feels the weight of his recurring dream recede like the waves from the shore of the lake below them. He didn’t realise how much was hanging on those few words, on Henry’s reaction to those words, on Henry not running away from those words ever again. He knew Henry wouldn’t have run – he promised exactly that last year and Henry has always been true to his word – but his mind wouldn’t let it go until he proved it to himself.

He tilts his chin up and Henry leans down and their lips touch, and they both smile as they press their mouths together and kiss on the pier under the full moon and a galaxy of stars.

**Day 5**

“It’s official, David has more followers than you Alex. How do you feel about that? Hey, did you know Henry has way more followers than you, like _waaay_ more. I suppose that’s because he’s a prince. Are you all right with that – not with the prince bit but the followers bit? And now David has more than you too. I bet he’ll even overtake Henry soon, there’s something intrinsically likeable about beagles isn’t there? I think I might like one. But anyway, how does that make you _feel_ Alex? Huh?”

“Do you realise you’ve woken me up every single day I’ve been here Bug? Do you realise I’m supposed to be on vacation?”

“Not the first day, and I didn’t call you the second day, I messaged so technically I didn’t wake you. And anyway, it’s nearly midday. You should put your phone on silent if you don’t want to be–”

“Ugh,” Alex groans into the phone. “That’s it, I’m changing my number.”

Henry drags the phone from Alex’s hand, says goodbye to June and hangs up before she can say another word. He then proceeds to spend the next hour making Alex thoroughly forget about June and David and the entire world outside their room.

After, they shower together and then Alex teaches Henry how to make migas for breakfast that is more likely lunch due to the late hour. Henry’s getting pretty good at the whole breakfast thing, as long as it’s Mexican or British. He won’t have a bar of that “_American fare,” _even though Alex points out that Henry doesn’t complain whenever he makes pancakes. But Henry persists and complains about the high sugar content of American food and Alex retorts and says that apart from a decent breakfast, the Brits don’t even have a cuisine to speak of and Henry has a lot to say about that, rattling off the best of British meals which Alex responds to by providing his own list of local traditional dishes.

All this light hearted banter is really nothing more than a ploy to distract them from the fact that they’re leaving this afternoon.

After their conversation on the pier last night, Alex and Henry sat on the edge of the shore and talked as they ran their fingers through the sand and felt the waves lap against their feet. They held hands in the moonlight and talked and talked and talked, and Alex told Henry about the dreams he’s been having and how he’d deduced only that morning that he’s been carrying around the fear of Henry leaving him for months, probably even since the last time they were at the lake house, and Henry told Alex he still felt like an utter prick for running out on him that time, then Alex told Henry he still felt like an asshole for the times he brushed Henry off when they first started seeing each other.

Henry stopped him then and said they’ve both done things they’re not proud of but what’s important is they love each other, and want to be with each other. Alex watched his boyfriend as he jutted out his chin in that way of his and told him with so much confidence and honestly and love that Alex was the only one for him, and they kissed and held each other under the stars until the first rays of the day peaked over the horizon.

They fell asleep the moment their heads hit their pillows when they finally made it back to their bedroom, the sun low on the horizon as they crawled into bed together and wrapped themselves around each other.

They clean up and pack in easy silence, and Alex checks to ensure they haven’t left any traces of their exploits in any of the rooms otherwise his dad will likely kill them both, or not let them come back unchaperoned at the very least.

Alex and Henry load up the jeep, and Alex still marvels how effortlessly Henry tosses the heavy bags and the cooler into the back. He even lets himself swoon a little, but that might also be at the colour in Henry’s cheeks and glow in his hair and the pink on his shoulders that has darkened to a summery light gold.

The PPO’s meet them in the driveway and Alex does one final sweep of the lake house before locking up. He takes one last look around, at the house, the swing on the porch, the pier jutting out over the still waters of the lake and the endless expanse of country all around them and then climbs into the jeep.

“Ready love?” Henry asks. He can see the look of Alex’s face; a longing for the world he’s leaving behind, his roots. But Henry can also something else there– a readiness, almost eagerness to meet whatever’s coming next head on. _So brave_, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m ready,” Alex replies, pulling the jeep onto the drive way. “Anyway, we have to come back next summer. There are still a few rooms I haven’t accosted you in.”

Henry’s smile takes over his entire face. “Have I mentioned lately that you are a _demon_?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex grins cheekily. “Tell me again when we get home.”


End file.
